From this hour I ordain myself loos’d of limits and imaginary lines, Going where I list, my own master, total and absolute, Listening to others, considering well what they say, Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating,
Gently, but with undeniable will, divesting myself of the holds that would hold me.

Gear

Sunday, January 20, 2013

Turns out I wrote about this bike ride I did and never actually published it. Well, while we can read about the past, be mindful of how you are in the present.

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In New York City, its easy to forget that you live within walking distance of the ocean, of protected salt marshes, of woodlands. That a day spent noodling around on your bike can take you to vastly different environments all under the NYC umbrella. I was under the umbrella on Sunday when I spent a day marshaling for the Transportation Alternatives NYC Century Ride.

It started at 6am. Normally, I would have been up for hours having done my daily calisthenics and orphanage volunteer work, but this Sunday strangely found me in bed, and I awoke to a slight started at the rambunctious alarm. Sushing Emily back to sleep, i slipped silently out of the apartment clad in my bike shorts and classic bike touring tank top.

The air was crisp, my first sweet taste of autumn. I cycled a few miles to Prospect park, where the ride would start (there was a bigger start over in that other park, Central something or other). I donned my offical Marshal orange vest, and saddled up for the 106 mile ride through 4 NYC boroughs, beginning in Brooklyn.

There seemed to be over a hundred riders just in the centruy ride alone, and we all left the park in a mass, though the cat 6 Freds soon enough took off to leave us in thier expesnive dust. We went down towardss Bay Ridge and went under the Verazanno Bridge, towards Coney Island and over the water to the far Rockaways. Zipping along on the still quite streets, we headed back to the main island main land of Long Island passing through the Jamaca Wildlife Refuge. From there, well, we sorta meandered in the run down outter waters of Brooklyn, slowly it seemed heading north and east towards what smelled like Queens.

After our first rest stop, with bagels and hummus and tabulou, I was refueled for the next 30 miles to get into Queens. I knew we were in Queens when I saw a huge globe out in the distance as the old world fair's fairgorunds popped into view. However, I barely knew i was in Queens, let alone NYC much afterwards. We rode along bike paths through dense woods, with narey a sound but the insects and far off cries of monkey's and tigers, or thigns that sounded like that. It was a wilderness, a seeming wilderness at least which in NYC is still pretty good. We would be in the forest for a while, emerge into some street with houses and lawns and then reneter the forbidden landscape once again.

Eventually, Shea Stadium came into view and we made our way out of Flushing and towards the sound, hugging the salt licked shoreline towards Laguardia airport and into Astoria, for another rest stop. 75 miles deep into the ride, with the sun having shined all day, I was feeling good and little tired, but with only a few more miles to go, it was looking like I'd have this thing wrapped up in no time and still have time to catch an afternoon football game.

But then, the Tri Boro Bridge came. With many steps up and many steps down, and many bikers, this equaled a slow event with everyone picking up their bikes and walking them up, and eventually down, and in the middle a slow single file ride across the bridge to Randall's Island. It seems to take forever to make it into the Bronx, and equally long to bike through and out of the Bronx. It seemed on every corner there was a traffic inducing festival going on, either Latin or religious or something else themed. I don't know how anyone gets anything done over there.

Eventually, after some hills and cheers, we crossed into Manhattan near it's tip and crossed our way over to the East Side Greenway as we zigged and zagged down towards Harlem and made our way, hours after Astoria, to Central Park where the big finish was located. I was pretty beat at this point but appreciated the effort to have a parade in my honor celebrating the heroic, inspiring deed I just accomplished.

We move forward and backwards with ease through our mind, but we can only LIVE in one place, this exact moment. This moment, this right now, is the most amazing thing that can ever be. Live Now, Be now. Be free.